Come Together
by cilepe
Summary: They've both become accustomed to being alone; Rogue's arrival at Xavier Institue is about to change that. [Scott/Rogue]
1. Chapter 1

She'd been curled up in the passenger's seat of the beat up truck for hours now, neither her nor her companion speaking.

_She'd spotted him in a bar and started her usual routine: sidle up, smile, press close, lay on the thick Southern drawl, get a few drinks, steal his wallet, escape to the ladies' room never to be seen there again._

_This time she found her wrist encased in an iron grip, cigar smoke being blown straight into her face. "Not tonight, darlin'," he said._

_Rogue's eyes flashed. She needed the money. In a flash her free hand was wrapped around his and she stared at him, waiting for him to drop like so many of her previous marks had done._

_Wolverine was different. With a burst of unusual strength she wrenched her arm free, already sorting through the information she'd taken. A moment later she huffed. "Accelerated healing. That would explain it."_

_If possible, his expression grew even more hostile. "How'd you know that?"_

"_You told me, sugah," she replied, unable to resist giving him some attitude. "You wanna know more than that? I need a ride." Normally she didn't ask strangers in bars to give her a lift, but it just so happened Wolverine knew exactly the place she wanted to go._

Logan's eyes flitted between the girl and the road. "Talk," he commanded finally, blowing out another puff of smoke.

Rogue sighed. She hated this conversation. "All I need is one touch to...absorb someone else. Their memories, their feelings, their life. If they happen to be a mutant, I take their powers, too. I can do what you can do. At least you didn't lose your money."

He snorted. "That why you're looking for Xavier?"

"I'm tired," she said, leaning her head against the window.

"You and me both, kid," he said, dropping the conversation. He understood that she didn't mean lacking sleep. Obviously she'd been living rough if she was relying on robbing chumps at bars to get by. It wasn't that far different from what he'd done not so long ago, living from cage fight to cage fight, never staying in one place for more than a night or two. It was an empty life. He'd thought being at Xavier's would change that—foolishly, as it turned out. He felt more alone now than he had before. A past full of nothing but pain and a future without _her_.


	2. Chapter 2

Logan killed the truck's engine, startling Rogue out of her daze. "We're here," he grunted, smoothly pulling a battered duffel bag from the back and slamming his door closed. Without waiting to see if his passenger was following, he strode through the garage to the front door of Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters.

Rogue stumbled along behind him, legs prickling as circulation was restored. She'd never seen as place so well-kept as this. Lush green grass spread out in all directions, neat gravel paths cutting through here and there. And then there was the mansion. Somehow the gray stone exterior exuded warmth and welcome. It was like she was being drawn inside by a comforting hug.

"Welcome home, Logan," said a man in a wheelchair.

Logan grunted again and headed straight for the fridge, grabbing a beer from the stock that was never allowed to be depleted.

The man seemed unaffected by Logan's attitude. "And I see you've brought a new friend." Though he seemed harmless enough, Rogue detected a hint of concern in his voice.

"Charles," she blurted before she could stop herself.

One of his eyebrows raised slightly. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage."

The request for her name was an unspoken command. "I'm Rogue."

"Picked her up trying to pickpocket me in a bar. Seemed real keen to get here once she found it I knew the place," Logan supplied, halfway through his bottle.

Xavier nodded. "I see."

At the same time, Rogue hurried to explain herself. "I hurt people. Ever since I got my powers. All I do is take—thoughts, memories, lives, powers, money. I've been used for experiments and as a murder weapon. I don't want to hurt people any more. From everything I've gathered, you're my best shot."

Charles' eyes seemed to bore into her very soul for a long moment. Seemingly satisfied for the moment, he offered a small smile. "I would be more than happy to help you in any way I can. Perhaps we could meet in my office tomorrow? Whenever is convenient for you."

Again, the suggestion seemed more like a command, but Rogue wasn't going to complain. It was his place, after all. "Sure."

"Logan will show you to a room. Feel free to explore. The kitchen is open at all hours." Charles gave her a brief nod and then left the room, leaving Rogue alone with Logan once again.

"C'mon," he said, tossing the now empty bottle expertly into the recycling bin. He slung his bag over his shoulder and tucked one hand into his jacket pocket as he led Rogue out of the kitchen and up several flights of stairs.

They bumped into an unkempt man with red tinted sunglasses moving almost like a zombie. Logan grunted by way of apology but the man ignored them and kept walking, pausing at a door at the other end of the hall.

"What's up with him?" Rogue asked.

"He lost someone." A long pause. "We all did."

She didn't have to tap into her borrowed telepathy to figure out that Logan was done talking. He opened a door, mumbled something about asking someone else if she needed anything, and quickly disappeared behind another door.

Sighing, Rogue shut the door behind her and took in her surroundings. Pale green walls, crisp ivory linens, glimmers of silver here and there, the room was a bit muted for her tastes, but it was comfortable. More importantly, it was private.

After a brief exploration of the closet and cupboards then a long shower, Rogue felt better than she had in a long time. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since the previous night. Thankfully the closet had come fully stocked with an array of pajamas so she wasn't ashamed to head back down to the kitchen.

The kitchen had a lone occupant. "Mind if I join ya, sugah?"

The man jumped. "No, not at all." He shoved his half-eaten plate over.

"Thanks." Only then did she realize it was the same zombie-like man from earlier, sunglasses and all. "Got anything good?"

He shrugged. "Just avoid anything labeled Kitty."

"She get upset when ya steal?"

He snorted. "Not at all. She just can't cook."

Rogue laughed. "I appreciate the warning." She pulled open the fridge and studied the contents for some time before settling for toast and tea. The day was catching up with her and sleep was sounding better and better.

The kitchen fell silent, aside from the occasional crunch of toast.

"I saw you upstairs earlier, right?" the man said suddenly.

"Mmmm," Rogue affirmed, mouth full.

"With Logan."

There was something about the way he said Logan's name. Rogue swallowed, trying to study the man's face, with little success. "Talkative, ain't he?"

The man grimaced. "When it suits him."

Silence fell again, only interrupted when the man pushed his chair back from the island. "I suppose it would be rude to leave without introducing myself. Scott Summers." He held out his hand.

Rogue drew back involuntarily. "Rogue. Just Rogue."

When it became obvious she wasn't going to return his handshake, Scott's hand dropped. "Goodnight," he said, leaving his dishes in the sink with a clatter.

Maybe tomorrow she could explain. Right now, she just needed to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Rogue got up early following a night of little sleep as she was trapped in someone else's memories. It hadn't happened much lately, but obviously being at Xavier's brought up some issues for a few of her mind's permanent guests.

The kitchen was nearly deserted when Rogue stumbled in, looking for only one thing: coffee. Scott silently watched her fumble for a few moments. "Left of the sink, top cupboard. Milk's in the fridge and sugar's in the pantry."

"Thanks," she said gratefully before fully realizing it was Scott who was in the kitchen with her. Feeling awkward, she tried to hurry getting her coffee ready and spilled both the milk and the sugar in the process. After last night she felt like she owed him an explanation, plus with those glasses on she couldn't tell where his eyes were and that unsettled her.

After a long sip of coffee and a few deep breaths of its calming aroma, she slid into the seat next to Scott and smile wryly. "I feel like I oughta explain about last night. I wasn't tryin' to be rude. I just—I didn't have my gloves on."

Scott cocked his head slightly. He wasn't sure what the connection was, or if she was expecting some kind of response. "Oh," he said. "Don't worry about it. I don't mean to sound rude, either, but I'd forgotten all about it."

Rogue chuckled lightly. "I guess it's alright, then. I was just worried I'd hurt you physically so I wasn't thinking about your feelings."

A wry grin appeared on Scott's face. "I suppose I might seem rude by not taking off my glasses, but it's the same reason as you. I don't want to hurt anyone." _Anyone else_ hung unspoken.

Just then, Xavier appeared, wheelchair nearly soundless on the smooth tile floor. "Good morning, Rogue. Scott, how are you?"

Scott dropped his head back down, seemingly intent on his cereal. "Same as usual."

Rogue didn't miss the pained expression on Xavier's face, though it lasted only a moment before being replaced by a more friendly look. "I wondered if you might like to join me for breakfast this morning, Rogue."

She considered briefly, then nodded. She had come here for his help, after all. No sense it putting it off.

Still clutching the coffee, she followed quietly after the professor, nodding briefly at Scott on her way out. The mansion was quiet this early and Rogue felt more at ease than she had for some time.

"So little has changed," she remarked as she entered Xavier's study.

The telepath fixed her with a questioning gaze and came to a stop behind his desk. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind explaining a little further," he said, clasping his hands and resting them lightly on the dark wooden surface.

Rogue worried at her lip for a moment. "I explained that when I touch people, I take their thoughts, their memories, powers, too, if they're a mutant. I was with Erik and Raven up 'til a year or so ago." She paused, lowering her eyes and pursing her lips as she waited to see just how Charles would react.

"I see," he said slowly, face giving away nothing. A moment later, he nodded toward a chair on the opposite side of his desk.

"I wasn't anything special as a kid. Just wanted to grow up and get outta Mississippi. Turns out it wasn't as great as I was expecting." Accepting his unspoken invitation, she sat down across from him. "Once my folks discovered my powers, they kicked me out and I was on my own. I was getting by, barely, when _they_ found me. And they treated me like a princess. At first. Let me keep to myself. Eventually they brought in a telepath, Emma, to help, they said. She poked around in my head some, cleared out most of the people I'd absorbed. I was grateful 'til I realized they expected to be paid back. After that, I was just an assassin for them. Hold on to somebody long enough, I kill 'em." She stopped there, staring vacantly down into her barely touched coffee.

Charles kept silent, allowing Rogue to continue at her own pace.

She sighed. "Long story short is I killed a lotta people for them and thought I was doin' the right thing. They all thought mutants were a threat that needed to be eliminated. My only thought was about surviving. Then came the machine." She set her cup aside and finally met Xavier's eyes. "Erik was planning on giving me his power to run this contraption that artificially mutated humans. But when I absorbed him for the test run, I found out the full-scale process would probably kill me. I managed to knock 'em both out and get away. Got as far as I could, in fact. Made it across the border and wound up stealing wallets until I tried to take Logan's."

There were things she was omitting, Charles knew, but now was not the time to press for details. Without probing too far into her mind, he could tell she was being truthful. "Thank you. I know that was not easy for you to tell me."

A corner of her mouth quirked up in a wry smile. "You coulda found that all out without me saying a word."

He leaned back in his chair. "I could. I have the power. But I only use it without consent in urgent circumstances. I cannot promise to never enter your mind uninvited, but I do promise that I will never do so without a _very _good reason."

Rogue gave another wry smile. "Erik says that's something of a change."

Charles looked pained again. "Time changes us all, I'm afraid, and I cannot say whether it is for better or worse." He wheeled from behind the desk to a small side table and motioned Rogue to join him. A moment later, a woman with white hair appeared carrying a tray. "Thank you, Ororo," he said kindly before turning his attention back to Rogue. "It's nothing out of the ordinary, I'm afraid, but please, help yourself."

After eating her fill and enjoying some light chat with Charles, Rogue decided she wanted to explore. All the emotions she'd dredged up left her tired and desiring some time alone. The grounds were vast and she set off down a path at random.


	4. Chapter 4

Rogue always found the woods calming and she was pleased Xavier's was so enclosed. She could lose herself and not worry about hurting someone while her mind wandered elsewhere.

She was deep into the trees before she stopped walking and really studied her surroundings. A deep breath filled her lungs with cool, damp air and stolen senses kicked in, analyzing each scent and sound. She felt like she could run for miles without stopping.

Another presence interrupted, declaring such an effort a waste of energy and Rogue sighed. "Why can't y'all just let me enjoy this instead of starting a catfight?"

"Are you talking to me?"

Rogue jumped. She must've been successful in pushing down the powers if she hadn't noticed Scott's presence. "No. Myself and a few friends." She tapped her temple briefly. "Sometimes I feel like I could explode and take the whole world with me, even if I didn't mean to."

Silence crept over them again, each absorbed in their own thoughts. In a burst of uncharacteristic spontaneity, Scott said, "Let's get out of here. I know where Logan keeps the keys to his bike."

Rogue gave a disbelieving chuckle. "Do you have a deathwish, sugah?"

His expression remained neutral as he replied. "Not anymore."

Shrugging, Rogue tucked her bangs behind her ears. "Alright."

Scott nodded slightly and turned, leading the way back to the mansion, then into the large garage. Once inside, he pointed. "That's it." He mounted the bike, looking quite at ease behind the handlebars.

"No helmet?" Rogue asked. "What happened to this boyscout I've heard about?"

It was Scott's turn to shrug. "Maybe I've outgrown him."

"Fair enough." She climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Scott turned the key and the machine roared to life.

* * *

The drive was pleasant and uneventful as the miles of scenic New York highway rushed beneath them. It was cold out in the wind, but Rogue found the chill refreshing. She'd been feeling trapped for a long time. This little jaunt wasn't going to cure that, but it had already lifted her spirits.

The further they drove, the more Scott relaxed. He could almost drive in his sleep he'd been this way so many times. They were alone on the deserted road, but he didn't feel lonely for the first time since Jean's death. Rogue's arms around him were welcome; he missed human contact, but he couldn't stand the pity that accompanied Storm's hugs or the professor's handshakes. And Logan...well, their contact was usually violent in nature.

* * *

Scott pulled up in a gravel lot. He parked the bike and allowed Rogue to swing off first before leading the way down a worn path. A few moments later they left the path and headed for a gnarly old tree that hung over a small lake. Its leaves were just beginning to turn from green to yellow and combined with the reflection off the water the area was bathed in dappled light.

"Ya must come here a lot," Rogue commented as she ran her hand along a low hanging branch. She could see the appeal—it was secluded and serene.

Scott seated himself, his back propped against the rough trunk. "We used to—Jean and me." Bittersweet memories were resurfacing. "I proposed here." He smiled faintly.

Rogue let her eyes drift closed. Part of her found it odd that Scott was sharing this with a perfect stranger, but another part of her understood completely. She had Logan's version of the story tucked away in a corner of her mind, but she hadn't pried into it yet. It was going to be painful and she was tired enough as it was. She would just let Scott talk as much or as little as he wanted.

"So, Rogue, where'd you grow up?"

"Mississippi. Small town. You?"

"Alaska. My dad was stationed at the airforce base in Anchorage. He's the reason I was obsessed with flying as a kid."

A grin emerged on Rogue's face. "Sounds exciting. Nothing exciting ever happened to me until..."

Scott understood why she'd trailed off. "Did you have a rough time when your powers emerged?"

"That's putting it nicely."

Her words drew a humorless chuckle from Scott. "I know the feeling."

She studied him intently, almost as if she could see behind those red lenses. "Ya know, sugah, I think ya do."

Further conversation was interrupted by a loud grumble from her stomach. She smiled apologetically. "Guess we've been here longer'n I thought."

"It always happens that way out here." Slowly, he pushed himself off the ground, taking a long stretch and one last deep breath. "There's a great little diner not far from here. Best chocolate milkshakes in New York state."

"Ya sure know your way to a girl's heart, Summers."

Scott ducked his head and shifted awkwardly. "Come on."

Once more the bike roared to life and tore down the highway.

* * *

**A/N: Apologies for the long wait for an update. Life. Don't talk to me about life. I will do my very best to finish this story rather than let it be one of those disappointing unfinished torments that appear on this site, but no promises about being speedy.**


	5. Chapter 5

Rogue's sleep was erratic. Some nights she slept like the dead, some nights her own breathing was loud enough to keep her awake.

Tonight was a wakeful night. Even after spending the day sparring with Scott then Logan she couldn't sleep. The stillness was pleasant, however, and she didn't want to disturb it.

Until she realized that it wasn't as perfectly still as it should be. Stolen senses kicked in, picking up near silent breaths that weren't her own and a faint trace of a familiar scent. Her brows furrowed. "Remy? What are you doin' here?"

"Anna Marie?"

There was surprise in his voice, meaning he hadn't known it was her, meaning he was here for work, meaning she was in trouble. She flicked on her bedside lamp and frowned at him. "This isn't quite how I pictured us meetin' again, swamp rat."

A faint smile flickered across his face. "Gambit neither." After a long pause, he almost seemed to sigh. "You gotta believe Gambit didn't know you were the assignment."

Rogue gave him a wry smile. "Would that really have changed anything, Remy?"

He huffed a chuckle. "Y' know me too well, chere." Remy was a thief and occasionally he was hired to take people. He was in demand because he always got the job done and he didn't ask questions.

"I hope you're getting paid well." Rogue threw off her covers and sat up, rolling her shoulders. "I've picked up a few things since last time."

The thief smiled. "Gambit's countin' on it, chere."

They fought hard, and amazingly didn't wake the rest of the mansion. Rogue wouldn't put it past LeBeau to have somehow drugged the others first. Despite her efforts, Remy wasn't afraid to fight dirty and took advantage of her disinclination to really hurt him. She collapsed as he plunged a syringe into her arm.

"Gambit don' usually make promises, chere, you know dat." He knelt by her as she lost consciousness and brushed her cheek. "I won't let you die, Anna Marie."

* * *

The room was sterile, clinical, cold, and not just in temperature. Rogue felt a chill settle in her bones that had nothing to do with her thin robe. She had a vague memory of Remy, _that no good Cajun_, drugging her, promising that he wouldn't let her die.

Slowly her faculties returned and she realized she was being watched. There was a camera above her bed and she strained for a moment, trying to summon a power that would enable her to short it out or something.

"It's no use, my dear. I thought it best to neutralize your powers while you're here." The voice over the intercom was patronizing.

Rogue finally felt the pressure on her neck. A control collar. She'd heard of them, but never seen or experienced one before.

"Why am I here?" she demanded.

"Bait."

"For who?"

The voice didn't reply, so she switched topics. "What does Remy have to do with this?"

She could almost detect a chuckle from the other end of the intercom. "LeBeau has useful skills that I make use of when I see fit. He's too good for this job, really. He had to make sure to leave a trail and I know it wounded his pride."

"So you want someone from the mansion."

It was as if the voice smiled. "It's a pity your mutation disqualifies you for my needs. You're quite intelligent. And because of that, you'll live once I have what I want."

* * *

Scott woke up groggily to a telepathic summons from the professor. _Briefing room in five minutes._

_I'll be there. _He stumbled out of bed, joints stiff and thoughts cloudy. He couldn't imagine that a danger room session would be the reason for this, even if he was a bit out of practice.

A few minutes later, he realized it wasn't the unaccustomed exercise. The mansion residents had been drugged and Rogue had disappeared.

"I'm going after her," Scott declared, earning incredulous looks from Xavier, Storm, Hank, and Wolverine.

"Are you sure you're ready for a mission like this, Scott?" Charles asked. It was only recently that Scott had come alive again and he wasn't eager to risk his progress on a rescue mission that could easily go south.

"This is exactly the kind of thing I've spent all my time here training for, Professor."

"I will take it into consideration," Charles finally replied. "I'm afraid we don't have much to go on at this point. We'll meet again this evening to discuss any new discoveries or developments." He dismissed them all with a nod.

* * *

Scott found himself wandering the grounds, hands shoved into his pockets. He was tired of being treated like he was broken. He'd been hurt-ok, he'd completely shut down for a while there-but he'd been doing better. He and Rogue went out a lot, sightseeing around the city or just sipping drinks in comfortable silence at a restaurant. She was the only person at the mansion who didn't think he was useless.

He'd show them.

With a firm nod, he headed to Logan's room. He knocked once and then barged in without waiting for a response.

He was greeted by Logan's claws to his throat. "Can I help you with something?" he growled.

"I'm going after Rogue. Can you track her at all?"

Logan retracted his claws and backed away. "This was left outside your window." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a playing card, the queen of hearts.

Scott took the card and frowned. Something was tugging at the back of his mind. Rogue had told him about some of her travels. She'd wound up in New Orleans a few times and always managed to run into the same guy, some kind of master thief with a card obsession. "Remy LeBeau."

Logan growled. "Gumbo's a thief. He wouldn't kidnap anyone without a reason, the reason usually being money. He was working for someone."

* * *

**A/N: Apologies for the jump from the end of last chapter to this. I just didn't have anything good to follow it up with. I have an idea of what's happening next, but absolutely no idea when it'll get written or posted. Thanks everyone who's sticking with me and my disappearances.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

"There's not a lot of people who have enough dirt on Gambit to control him-his family, who don't have a reason for being interested in Rogue, and one other person." Logan paused. "You're not gonna like it."

Scott rolled his eyes behind the red lenses. "Is there any situation where I would like it?"

Logan snorted. "Guess not. Nathaniel Essex."

The name caused Scott to freeze for a moment. "Why would Sinister want Rogue?" Then he shook his head. The reason hardly mattered. "We have to get her out of there."

"Hold on, One Eye. This whole thing smells like a set-up to me. Gambit snatchin' Rogue and leaving a very obvious clue right outside your window? Given his previous quests for mutant perfection, I don't think he really wanted Rogue. He's usin' her to get to you."

Scott had to admit that Logan's theory made sense. "Probably. Are you suggesting I leave her with that lunatic while we wait around here until the professor thinks we have a lead?"

Logan was never one to sit down and wait and he knew that Scott knew that. "You ain't goin' alone." Despite their differences, they were teammates (Logan didn't consider anyone family.) "Lucky for us, that damn Cajun wears too much cologne. I can smell him a mile away."

With a grim nod, Scott headed down the stairs. Logan followed and a few minutes later they were in the garage, suited up and ready to ride. Logan couldn't help a faint smirk as Scott pulled on a helmet.

"It wouldn't be a rescue mission if I died from a head injury on the way," he retorted. "Let's go."

* * *

Something about white rooms made it impossible for Rogue to judge time. At first, she tried counting seconds, but her brain refused to cooperate past 'five hundred Mississippi.' There was nothing else in the room to study and she'd already had more than her fill of sleep.

"Ya could at least let the Cajun in here to keep me company," she complained to the camera. "I couldn't hurt him much with this on." She tapped the collar around her neck.

The room remained as silent as ever and Rogue sighed. She'd never liked being left alone with her thoughts after her powers first manifested. They weren't usually _her_ thoughts. She'd absorbed an awful lot of people over the years. That gave her an idea...the collar might prevent her from using her powers, but it didn't control her mind.

She'd never tried to consciously pull information from the stored psyches in her mind. The powers often reappeared spontaneously and the memories usually surfaced as nightmares She'd never delved further than what she needed for the situation at hand and shoved everything else as far back as she could. But maybe someone in there knew something that could help her. She'd start with the obvious...Magneto.

* * *

Scott yanked off his helmet. "Why are we stopping? Did you lose the trail?"

Logan snorted and killed his engine. "You ain't me, Cyke. You need to take a break. Eat. Drink." He nodded to the small convenience store that sat at the other end of the parking lot.

Scott huffed. "I'm fine."

"Prove it."

The old Scott would have simply ignored the challenge and walked away, but the old Scott was gone. He jumped off the bike, throwing his helmet to the side, and charged at Logan.

Logan stopped the other mutant with a punch to the gut. "If you were on your game, you'd'a seen that comin'."

"Since when do you pull your punches?" Scott demanded, bent nearly double trying to catch his breath.

"I don't want to hurt you anymore, Scott." And that was as vulnerable as Wolverine would get. He stalked off toward the store with one goal in mind: get beer.

* * *

_I always knew you couldn't do without me_.

Shut up, Lensherr. I need information and you probably have it.

A smile formed on the older man's face. _Ah, yes. Our current predicament. I may have wanted to use you for the greater good, Rogue, but I never held you against your will._

Yeah, you're a wonderful human being. Are you gonna help or not?

_So impatient, child. However, you are correct that this is hardly the time for one of our lovely philosophical debates. The control collar technology was first conceived and developed by William Stryker. He's not above kidnapping and experimenting on mutants, but he certainly would never simply hold one captive and then release him. No, I rather suspect that by wending your way to Charles Xavier, you've crossed paths with Mr. Sinister._

If one could look incredulous while having a conversation with a mental copy of someone inside your head, Rogue did.

Erik merely shrugged. _I wasn't the one to suggest mutants use code names. His real name is Nathaniel Essex and he has only one interest: achieving perfection. For years he was fixated on Jean Grey and Scott Summers. It would appear that he has not lost interest despite the loss of Miss Grey. I'm afraid you are nothing but a pawn, my dear._

Performing what equated to slamming a door in her mind, Rogue came back to herself. She was angry, and not just because Erik liked to needle her. She was tired of being used, valued only for her effect on others. This Sinister wasn't the first person to take advantage of her like that, but Rogue vowed that he would be the last.


End file.
